Enough
by RJDaae
Summary: I thought it would be enough to be loved. It isn't. But it has to be. A rambly, poemish bit of writing from Erik's POV. E/C-ish


_AN: Sort of an experimental poem-type thing that I've been tinkering with for awhile and finally liked enough to post. I hope you like it! :)_

**Enough**

I thought it would be enough  
To be loved

It _isn't_

But it _has_ to be

* * *

She has always cherished a daguerreotype likeness of her father  
Encircled by a gilded frame that never managed to shine as brightly as her hair  
Once it had whiled away the hours of our lessons clasped fiercely to her heart  
A shield forged in gold and sepia  
Like an emblem of his love  
Her father protecting her  
As he always had in life

How ironic  
That that same protective presence should be the very crack in her armor that made her vulnerable  
That allowed me such a perfect entryway to her soul

I saw the wounds left by her father's death  
The rips in her wings that were invisible to the rest of the world  
The fractures that could only be mended by the fulfillment of his dying promise to her

The photograph now lies in some dusty drawer of her dressing table  
Absent like her father  
Gone but not forgotten

* * *

Her mind is preoccupied by thoughts of me  
Not _me  
_Not _Erik  
_The me, I, by rights, _should_ have been  
Could _never_ have been  
_Am  
__No_

She has no notion of how very near to each other we truly are  
Though still not near enough  
Not near enough for either one of us

She kneels prostrate before her mirror  
Praying that I could be closer to her  
Wishing that I could stand before her like an ordinary man

As do _I_

Her heart is filled with visions of an angel

As is_ mine_

* * *

_She_ is an angel

And she _loves_ me  
Purely, truly, completely  
Her love is a shining beacon  
That chases the darkness from the corners of my mind  
Just as rodents skitter away at the approach of the rat-catcher's lamp

But as true as her love is  
That is how false is that which she has lavished it upon

She loves _the Angel of Music_  
And Erik is no angel

And yet, somehow, I _am_

_She_ says I am  
And she speaks nothing but the truth

I must be an angel  
To be able to endure such exquisite torture

To see the way her blue eyes dart about the dressing room at the barest echo of my voice  
Full of awe  
Full of inspiration  
Full of love  
For _me_  
_Not_ for me  
For _the angel_

She could never love _Erik__  
_

She already _does_

But she doesn't know what it truly _is_ that she loves  
And thus it isn't real!

And if she ever _did_ know the truth  
_It never could be_

* * *

I have trapped myself absolutely  
Painted my way into a corner  
One from which it is impossible to escape without demolishing the entire room  
And such a beautiful room it is

* * *

She is so pure  
So good  
So entirely trusting

So naive

_She_ is the angel

And I am_ a monster_

And I am an angel

And _he_ was an angel

_Oh, _he_ was an angel_

* * *

His golden hair gleaming not-quite-as-exquisitely as her own  
But still more than the her father's picture frame  
Still more than _my_ lank dark strands

His sky-clear eyes the perfect complement to her blue gaze  
Glowing with youth  
Rather than sickly yellow luminescent hellfire

Youth, where I am Age  
Life, where I am Death

All the light that she so craved seemed to pour forth from his very soul  
And I knew she would be pulled to it  
Like a sunflower turning its face toward its namesake star

Just as I yearned to be near _her_ light  
How could I blame her?

But _him_  
_Him_, I _could_ blame

* * *

When he held her to his breast  
When my heart clenched as tightly as the arms he wrapped around her  
I told myself that it _wasn't_ simple, crude envy  
The sort of emotion that would be_ so far below_ an angel

I told myself that I would feel the same about anyone else  
Any_thing_ else  
Anything that threatened to intrude between Christine and her promising future  
Whether that 'anything' came in the shape of a young man or not

Not for the first time, I wanted to believe in my own lies, the way she so guilelessly did

But the truth was that I wanted to be in his place  
And a grasping, vicious jealously clawed its way up my throat whenever I saw them together

To be so young and handsome and burning with light  
_My_ arms around her  
_My_ heart swelling with love, instead of constricting in jealousy  
_Myself_ between her and her career  
And _nothing_ intruding between _us_

* * *

I wanted to kill him

I wanted to_ make him look like me_  
Though I knew he could never look like _me_  
Not _really_  
Not _alive_

But every time I saw him smile at her  
Every time I saw _her_ smile at _him_  
I was more than willing to _try_

But then  
Before I had the chance  
She sent him away  
For the sin of doubting the existence of their own kindred

* * *

I knew I had no chance  
Even if I _did_ kill him  
She had obviously given him her heart  
And even an angel can not wrest such a thing back once it has been freely given

So, I had resolved to remove myself from her life  
To let her have what she so clearly wanted  
I couldn't bear to break her precious heart  
There are _so few_ precious things in this world

I would return to my cold, dark, empty home  
My cold, dark, empty life  
And never venture upstairs again  
For fear of the pain that hearing her voice again would bring me

It was only the faint echo of an angry shout that drew me back  
Filtering through the mirror and to my ears as I had lingered _one more moment_  
Savoring the final traces of her voice as she greeted my rival  
After what she couldn't realize I had intended to be my last farewell

I drifted back to my nook  
Curious at what could have drawn such a harsh tone from the girl  
Whose nature was as sweet as her voice

I found her crying, alone

She had tried to bring _him_ into her world of fairies and angels  
Taken his hand as she told him her secret  
As if this realm of magic was a physical place she could lead him to

She trusted him with her precious, vulnerable heart

And he had laughed at her

Not mean-spiritedly  
But even so

He had laughed  
And she had spit back her humiliated indignation

And he left

And she stayed

And _I_ stayed

* * *

Once upon a time, our every lesson was punctuated with inquiries regarding her father

_Did he still cough in heaven?_  
_Did he play his fiddle?_  
_Did he miss her?_

He hasn't been mentioned in months

Neither has _he_

* * *

I tell her she will be the greatest singer the world has ever known  
Truthfully, she already is  
The _world_ just doesn't _know_ it yet

She modestly ducks her head when I tell her these things  
Her face colouring as prettily as a fresh pink rosebud  
A gracious tear slides down her face, glistening like dew on a petal

She doesn't think it possible  
Again, nor does the world

_Yet_

They'll see

She is an angel  
And they _will_ see it

Just as surely as _she_ will _never_ see _me_

* * *

She is a good girl  
She is a smart girl  
Yes, perhaps a bit overly trusting  
But a far cry from her colleagues, the flighty girls of the chorus and the corps de ballet  
Heads as full of cotton as the gauzy skirts whose loud swishes herald their approach wherever they go

She would leave if she knew  
If she had even the slightest suspicion  
Run as far and fast as the wind that blows across her northern homeland  
And chilling my heart equally in her flight

She loves me  
She loves _the_ _angel_

She insists that she will never leave me  
Begs that _I_ must never leave _her_ either

But she loved _him_ as well  
And she left _him_  
Compelled _him_ to leave _her_  
Even though _he_ was an angel

I am not an angel  
And she doesn't love me  
And she would leave

* * *

Her snapped wings have been long-since healed  
She simply hasn't realised it herself yet  
Hasn't dared to stretch them and find them mended and ready to fly

If I were a better man  
If I were indeed even a _man _at all, and not a _monster_

If I were _an angel_

I would let her go  
I would _help_ her go

But I am no angel  
Not to myself, and not to the world

But to her, I _am_  
And I would rather pretend  
Spend the rest of my life walking on tiptoe  
Delicately skirting anything that might shatter that precious illusion  
Devote myself to an existence of frozen stagnation  
Rather than take any perilous _action  
_Doing whatever possible to convince _even myself _that I am what she thinks

Anything, rather than risk dousing the light that she has brought to my dark world

Maybe, someday, I will tell her the truth  
Just as I _now_ tell her that her voice will one day rule the worlds' stages  
I will tell her _then_ that she doesn't _need_ an angel to lift her to the sky anymore  
That I am more albatross than angel, and she is better off without me

Hopefully, for her own sake, she'll believe me when I do  
I'm not sure if I could bear to say it twice

Or maybe, someday, she'll make the discovery herself  
See the magnificent wings that have always been her own  
Better that she should leave of her own volition  
Better that I shouldn't have to tear _my own_ heart from my chest  
For if I am to die, I would rather it be at the hand of one who loved me

I'll let her go, then  
Mournfully, but without resentment

When so many things I've longed for have been denied  
How could I resent _her_ for anything that would make her happy?  
I would gladly shear off my own fledgling wings and add their feathers to her own, if she only asked

But first she must _ask_  
But, please, not _yet_  
Hopefully not for at least a while longer

Because, at least for now, she loves me  
And _I_ love _her_  
And sometimes that means _not_ being loved  
So that we may _continue_ to love

I was wrong to think it would be _enough_ to be loved  
For there is no such thing as '_enough_'

But somehow it _has_ to be  
For _both_ of us


End file.
